


The Apple

by MadameMeduse



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Funny, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia's Sense of Humor, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Just Friends, M/M, Oops, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMeduse/pseuds/MadameMeduse
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier stumble into a very delicate situation, Jaskier fucks up and Geralt will need to punish the bard for his mistake.This is a oneshot, maybe :)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	The Apple

It seemed like Eskel had done them a service. The other Witcher had visited the small town a week earlier and rescued the mayor's daughter, who had been abducted by a group of bandits to squeeze some money out of her father.

As Geralt und Jaskier entered the lovely inn in Tennermere at dawn, everybody jumped to sing the praises of that young Witcher with the sad eyes who had been a rightful knight in shining armour.

The bard mused that the display of the bandit's decaying bodies hung from the town's bell tower did not quite match the overall positive picture, but he was content that, this time, it wasn't his job to turn the tide for Geralt. So he happily bathed in all the adoration, questions and praises, as he jumped in to be the Witcher's herald once again, being fulsome in his praise for the White Wolf, who was, of course, even a better man than his brother.

Oh, he could already feel the weight of the coins that would fill his purse after the night's performance! Everybody wanted to hear his songs, the audience would love to gasp when hearing all the bloody details and sigh when there would be some romantic entanglement implied.

Geralt himself looked a bit like a cornered animal as he tried to enjoy a mug of ale without any disturbances. But as the duo had faced a really nasty nest of Nekkers some days ago, even the Witcher seemed to be content with the outcome of Eskel's work. Geralt being content meant that he presented a solid 2 on Jaskier's personal GG (Geralt's Grumpiness) scale.

'Well, that will be a lovely evening', Jaskier thought as he overlooked their table bending under the food the owner of the inn had brought them. All at the expense of the mayor, naturally. The ale was indeed excellent, as were the bread, the wild boar stew and the fresh fruit.

And maybe it would be a perfect night, too, Jaskier assumed as he smiled at said mayor's daughter. She was a gorgeous brunette, all grey eyes and more curves than a wild river. Her snickering female friends by her side, she hung out at a nearby table and shot him some really naughty glances. 

Maybe he would try to coax her into a shared bath and into the soft feather bed of his room later?  
Maybe she even had a close friend who would be open to join them?  
Maybe the blonde in the blue dress?

"So sad we didn't meet your brother, Geralt“, Jaskier sighed in anticipation and took a sip of the Witcher's ale, totally ignoring the other man's thunderous look. „Maybe I could have composed a ballad about the two of you, being like fire and ice. Or sun and moon? The younger one radiant and adorable, the other one -.“

Jaskier's instinct told him that he would find himself off the GG scale within seconds if he kept going.

„- aaaand I'll leave now to start my performance.“

He fled their table in his most elegant stride and hopped on the empty chair at the girls' table, leaning on the beautifully carved wooden pillar that supported the sooty ceiling. 

Everything went perfectly fine. As always, his poetic words plucked at people's heartstrings easily. He made them roar with laughter, ushered them to sing along with his greatest hits and ended the first set with a soft ballad about a cursed princess, who was rescued by a handsome Witcher and lived happily ever after.

That particular song was a new one. It had come to Jaskier in winter while being in a fine brothel in the palmyra area of Kerack. He had never played it before in the public and as he dismounted the chair for a short break, he found out that the Witcher did not like that song at all. Geralt's glance literally pierced him.

The bard pushed through the crowd clapping his shoulders and singing his praises. He finally arrived at their table and gulped down a glass of dry claret. Sweat trickled down his forehead, as the inn burst with villagers and the flames in the tavern's fireplace shot out like a furnace.

“Geralt, why that sour face? Come on, you should try one of these to lighten up your mood. They are sweet as a maiden's -.”

He picked a ripe apple out of the enormous fruit bowl and tossed it over to the gloomy Witcher. For half a second, the bard feared that it might just bounce off Geralt's thick skull, but then the man's hand shot out and caught the fruit mid air.

There was dead silence. The villagers stopped laughing and talking and turned to the Witcher's table. The bard hastily looked around. 

“Ehmmm, I am sorry, did I miss something?”, Jaskier's collar suddenly felt too tight and he opened the top button. Seconds later, the mayor's daughter rose from her seat, approached him and slapped his face with a remarkably strong backhand.

“Congratulations!”, she hissed and stormed off the room, her female friends following her immediately, murder in their eyes. There was a roar of laughter following her rather dramatic departure, but then all eyes turned to the two travellers again.

The innkeeper, a plump woman with an enormous bosom, clapped her hands in delight and patted her apron for a handkerchief. She awkwardly blew her nose.

“Isn't it romantic? A Witcher and his dashing bard. I would love to attend the wedding.”

“Wedding?” Jaskier gasped, dumbfounded and for the first time in his life lost for words. Heat rose to his cheeks and he avoided eye contact with Geralt. Well, fuck. “Excuse me?”

The innkeeper shot him a sceptic glance.

“The apple. You threw it, he caught it. That's our local proposal tradition. Didn't you know?”

In the retrospective, Jaskier thought, the moment when Geralt heavily put his tankard back on the table and forced the bard to look into his face was one of the scariest moments in the bard's whole life. And he had really, really lived through hell of a lot of those moments. Sometimes even without his pants.

He still brooded about the situation when they set their camp two hours later, in the woods outside of Tennermere. There was a creek nearby, he could hear the mumbling of the water and the cry of a heron.

They had left the town immediately and in complete silence. Now, a small fire cracked between their bedrolls and Jaskier knew it was time to make a proper excuse. The way Geralt used his knife to sharpen the branch he would use to roast an unlucky rabbit over the campfire spoke volumes.

“I am truly sorry! This should have been a splendid evening, filled with all forms of earthly delights.”

The Witcher rose, put away the branch and sheathed his knife. His amber eyes sparkled hazardously as he approached Jaskier slowly, like a wild beast scenting its prey. The bard jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards, just towards the creek.

“Yes, Geralt, I totally agree with you that it may have been a good idea to check on the local traditions, as we decided some time ago that you would take over the monster hunting part and I would see to make sure we weren't overstepping some silly local rules.”

Geralt got closer, so close that the bard could smell a mixture of Geralt's soap and his fury. The bard panicked as his heels dug into the soft sand of the riverbank. Oh, gods, he would die out here, torn to pieces by his owe betrothed! That would have made the finest song of his career! He whimpered.

“See, I didn't know that, Geralt. I didn't!”

Geralt's voice was mere a hoarse whisper, a promise of pain and terrible suffering.

“I did, Jaskier. I did.”

it was the lightest of shoves. Nevertheless, the bard fell and was immetiately swallowed up by the dark, shallow water. As he returned to the surface, spitting and fuming, the first thing he saw was Geralt's grin.

That mutant bastard! Jaskier knew that revenge was sweet and oooh, his revenge would be the sweetest of all. Just like that damned apple.

He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyho, as my other Geraskier story will take a while to be finished, I found the plot (?) for this short fic while preparing my oats this morning. So: hope you have enjoyed this sweet fruit.
> 
> The apple tradition was a real tradition in Switzerland, by the way. :)


End file.
